


The One Where Dean Owns a Diner and Steve’s a Regular

by happywriter16



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Crossover, Dean Winchester Whump, Gen, Pre-Slash, off screen though, the mildest of spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-25
Updated: 2018-07-25
Packaged: 2019-06-16 01:36:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,068
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15426192
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/happywriter16/pseuds/happywriter16
Summary: “Dude, if you’re trying to hide, you’re doing a shit job of it.”





	The One Where Dean Owns a Diner and Steve’s a Regular

**Author's Note:**

> This takes place in a universe where Sam’s gone and he made Dean promise to live a normal life. So Dean does. Mostly. And Steve got so fed up with SHIELD’s way of doing business he had to get away, do some thinking. For all he knows, Bucky's still gone.

“Anyone ever tell you how much you look like Captain America?”

“You’re the first,” Steve smiles, Natasha’s tricks about lying and being believable flying through his brain. 

“Bullshit,” the guy says, laughing. Steve stiffens until the guy says, “What can I get you?”

Steve sighs, relieved, then places his order. 

\---

Steve comes in just about every day for a week straight before Dean asks him his name. 

“Steve.”

“Steve Rogers?”

Dean. Steve knows the guy’s name is Dean after hearing regulars come in and greet him, some act like coming into the diner and seeing Dean is the highlight of their day. Dean’s face is hopeful and Steve can’t help himself, dropping his head and almost mumbling, “Steven Rogers.”

“Dude, if you’re trying to hide, you’re doing a shit job of it.” Before Dean, it’d been months since anyone called him on being Steve Rogers, Captain America. Hiding in plain sight has been a revelation. He’ll see people looking at him, wondering, deciding not to approach figuring the real Steve Rogers wouldn’t go around without a disguise. 

“I told you, I’m not the guy. Google Steven Rogers, there’s a million of us.” He knows. He has seen the pages. 

Dean cocks his head to the side as if considering Steve’s words. “True.”

Even though Steve knows his name, it feels rude not to ask, “And you are?”

“Dude, you’ve been coming in here for a week eating all my pie. You should know my name by now.”

“Yeah, it’s Dean.”

“Dean Winchester.”

“Well, now it’s official. Nice to meet you Dean.”

Dean just laughs before heading into the kitchen. 

\---

That’s how it starts. Their friendship. Steve coming in just about every evening. Steve regales Dean with tales about shenanigans the guys at the construction site get into. Down in deep Texas some of the guys are day laborers, new to the country and don’t speak English. And Steve’s tanner than he’s ever been so recognition is rarely an issue. Dean complains about how much Steve eats. “Thank God, this isn’t an all you can see buffet.”

The run together sometimes. An old habit Steve can’t or won’t break, he can’t decide which. Dean complains the whole time but does it anyway. Says somebody he knew used to run. Plus, diner food isn’t exactly doing him any favors, he says. They meet at the local YMCA near the best park in town three times a week, showering there before heading separate ways. 

When they change, Steve sees the scars Dean has. They don’t seem like the scars you get from just living life. Like that one time you fell or you cut yourself in the kitchen. Normal stuff. Nobody makes it through life without some except him and those like him, physical scars anyway. But the scars he sees on Dean, faint as they are on Dean’s back, up his right side, one across his shoulder, aren’t normal. 

“What happened?” he finds himself asking one day. Dean’s got his back to him. Steve can see the minute pause in Dean’s movements, as he pulling his shirt over his head. 

“Long stories,” is all he says, turning to look at Steve. The look on his face stops Steve from saying he’s got time. 

\---

“My brother,” Dean says, plopping down on the sofa.

“Where is he?”

“Dead.”

“Sorry.”

“Why do people say that? It’s not like it’s your fault.”

“Sorry you had to lose someone.”

“Life, right?”

“Yeah. What’s his name?”

“Sam.”

Sam doesn’t look like Bucky but something about his smile in the photo reminds Steve of him. So big. So open. Damn near blinding. 

Steve must’ve been standing staring at Sam’s picture longer than he thinks because Dean’s calling his name, his voice louder than it needs to be. “Sorry,” Steve says, putting the photo down back on the pile of books he got it from. He plops down on the opposite end of the couch. “The game on yet?” This is the third or fourth time he’s ever been to Dean’s place to watch a game. It's the first time he's ever seen Sam's picture. It’s shot gun style (shoot from the front door straight through the back door), with the living areas on one side and the two bedrooms and one bath on the other. It’s small, very old but loved from the way Dean described all the work he and some locals did on it to make it livable. He’d told Steve, “I paid all those guys in food mostly for weeks and they still didn’t each as much as you do in a week.”

It’s forty-minutes into the game and their team is losing. That’s nothing new. How badly, now that’s new. Their team can usually hold their own. Not tonight. They are getting creamed. The more they lose the more they drink. 

“How come you never get drunk?” Dean’s head rolls to the left to look at Steve.

Steve shrugs. “Just don’t.”

“Who doesn’t get drunk? Not even a little.” Steve shrugs again. “You know why.”

“Rapid metabolism. You see how I eat.” 

“You’re a terrible liar,” Dean says, turning his attention back to the TV.

\---

“Dean Winchester, I need your help.” The girl had come into the diner while Dean was in the back. She seemed tense, ready for something, so Steve stopped eating, turning ever so slightly to be ready to fight if need be. She had scanned the place looking for someone and when she saw Dean come out the kitchen, those had been the first words out of mouth. 

“Retired,” Dean grits out, walking to deliver food to Gerald, who comes in every Thursday at seven pm for meatloaf, mashed potatoes, carrots – not peas like the menu advertises – and two slices of cherry pie. 

“Please.” Dean busies himself and the girl just repeats please again and again, following Dean around when he's not behind the counter, until Dean practically orders her to come into the kitchen. Steve can hear the diner’s back door open and close. He goes into the kitchen to follow them out. Kara says, “Leave him be.” She’s used to seeing Steve in the back talking with Dean so she doesn’t tell him to go away. Kara’s the kind of woman you listen to. Outside one of the windows in the kitchen, he can see Dean and the girl standing next to Dean’s car. Dean’s leans on the front, arms and legs crossed, head down. The girl’s shifting her weight from side to side as she talks. Then she starts crying, leaning into Dean. His eyes look to the sky and then he’s wrapping an arm around the girl’s shoulders. She immediately wraps her arms around his waist. 

They spend ten, fifteen minutes out there. The second they break apart, Steve’s walking back to his seat. Dean comes back in alone. He doesn’t talk for the rest of the time Steve's there, seeming to do his job on auto-pilot. He’s like that for the next two evenings Steve comes around. Steve’s tempted to ask Dean what’s wrong but doesn’t. He asks Kara instead. “Not for me to say.” 

When Dean does come back after two days away, he moves like a man who’s been in battle. Steve doesn’t even get the words out before Dean hisses at him, “I’m fine.”

\---

The second night after Dean’s return, Steve stays at the diner until Dean leaves for the night and follows him home. Dean waves him off but Steve doesn’t listen, just follows Dean up his steps and into his home. Dean doesn’t stop Steve from following him into his bedroom. 

“Take your shirt off.” 

“Whoa, slow down. I think things are moving a little fast. No dinner and a movie first?” Steve can’t help but smile at the joke. It’s the first sign of the Dean he knows in three days. Dean still doesn’t remove his shirt. Finally, Steve moves, stopping in front of Dean then dropping to balance on the balls of his feet. Dean’s eyes follow him. He grabs the hem of Dean’s shirt, waiting to be stopped. When Dean doesn't say anything, Steve pulls it up. 

A bruise. Big. Up his entire left side. Days old so it’s rainbow of purple, yellow and black. He glances up at Dean who’s now decided to look away. 

“What happened?”

“I’m fine.”

Steve takes Dean’s chin in his left hand, forces Dean to look at him. “That’s not what I asked.”

“If I told you, you wouldn’t believe me.”

“You know who I am. That I fought aliens. What wouldn’t I believe?”

 

“And that is how I spent my Friday night,” Dean finishes. Steve can feel Dean’s not telling him everything but he lets it slide. He knows enough now. He’d stayed like he was, squatting with one hand on Dean’s knee, something he hadn’t realized he’d done. Steve’s knees don’t actually hurt but he says they do, breaking the silence that descended after Dean finished talking. If Dean wasn’t hurt, Steve would take this moment to do what his mind has been going over and over in his head for weeks. Instead, he slides his hand off and stands, stepping back to put some space between him and Dean. 

“You need to rest.”

“Because you think I’m crazy.”

“Because I think you’ve been through a lot and should’ve stayed home a few more days.”

“I’ve been hurt worse. Ask Kara.”

“Maybe I will. She do this, too?”

“Used to. She got hurt real bad. Almost died.”

“You ever almost die?”

Dean huffs. “Lost count.” 

Steve doesn’t know what to say to that. He feels like he should. He’s blessedly out of practice. “Well, okay, I’m going to…” He’s backing up to the door when Dean says, “You staying? I feel like that’s something Captain America would do.” 

“You want me to?”

“Yeah.” Steve smiles. “You can sleep in the other room. The couch’s not the best for beauty sleep. You look like you could use some.”

“Funny man, you are Dean.”

Dean shrugs then is lifting one leg. “You mind? Getting these on lately has been a real bitch.” Steve is simultaneously relieved and disappointed when Dean says he doesn’t need help removing anything else. 

\---

The next morning Dean finds a box on his door step. 

Steve stops by after his shift. Dean just shouts come in at Steve’s knock. His smile when he sees Steve is damn near blinding. “I fucking knew it! Captain Fucking America!” 

The box is filled with pictures, articles, and memorabilia. A lot of the stuff is from Tony. All the weirdest and/or funniest stuff Tony could get his hands on. Most of it left in random places for Steve to find. A lesser man would’ve punched Tony in the face for half the stuff. A lesser man wouldn’t have have seen it for what it really was. 

“You’re so excited now? I confirmed it last night.”

“Well, I was in pain.”

“You feeling any better today?”

“Much.”

“And you’re not mad at me for lying?”

“More like disappointed. Captain America does not lie. Batman, who I'm more of a fan of, would.”

He still can’t say it most of the time, but Clint’s rubbed off on him enough that he gives Dean the bird instead of using the word. “You didn’t say Iron Man so I can live with that.”

“No to Iron Man and maybe later to the other thing.”

Steve blushes. He knows that Dean has noticed this about him, that he blushes when the topic of sex comes up at the diner. The guys going on about their latest conquests, real and imagined. Dean’s always had the decency to not rib him about it. The one thing the serum didn’t do anything about. Made it worse in Steve’s opinion. 

Dean’s smile says it was a joke, his eyes say otherwise. 

“That blush, does it go all the way down?”

When Steve just gets redder, Dean howls with laughter. “That’s a yes. You a virgin Cap?”

Steve barks a laugh. He wasn’t a virgin before he went into the ice. He’s most assuredly not since coming out of it. “I can pretend if you want me to.”

Dean nearly drops the stuff in his hands, “You can’t be saying shit like that and a guy’s not hundred percent.”

“Well, I guess it's about time I learn some patience.”

**Author's Note:**

> This idea came to me months ago. Finally posting. Ideas for a chapter 2 are percolating so we'll see what happens. Hope you enjoyed it!


End file.
